Saving Benson
by poetif
Summary: Olivia gets a visit after coming home from the station after freeing herself from William Lewis. I can honestly say I don't know if this is finished or where it's going if it's not. But...I hope you enjoy it. Rated M for language and future content.
1. After Lewis

**A/N: I really don't know what this is. I was watching the "Save Benson" arc and this is what popped out. Rated M for language. Story is mine. Characters aren't. **

Fresh from the station after a brief trip to the ER, Olivia is gingerly applying antibiotic ointment to her left breast with a q-tip. Angry burn marks from stove top heated keys mars the sensitive flesh.

Brian was gracious enough to run to her apartment, which is still a crime scene, to pick up some clothes and other essentials. IAB had the nerve to demand he be escorted. It took in hour on the phone with Tucker for Cragen to get anyone inside her place, let alone someone who they deemed might tamper with evidence. It's as if they think she orchestrated her own kidnapping, physical assault and everything that subsequently followed.

Assholes.

But she's happy for the temporary reprieve of Cassidy's hovering. The man is oozing guilt and she can see how much it's eating at him for not following up when his messages went unanswered. However, Olivia doesn't have the emotional fortitude nor the mental wherewithal to prop them both up.

Not now.

Lewis took too much of both. Between the physical assault, forcing alcohol and drugs on her, and torturing and raping his lawyer's parents in front of her, Olivia has nothing left. She's seen many terrible things in her career, but the barbaric, sadistic, and simply put…evil, that she witnessed at his hands was like nothing she'd ever seen before.

Olivia survived four days in hell and still doesn't know how.

Three knocks to Brian's door startles her. She assumes his hands may be too full to use his key. Plus, he was also supposed to stop at the pharmacy down the block for her antibiotic prescription and some ibuprofen. The man's medicine cabinet consisted of nothing but dental floss, shaving cream, cough syrup and a surprising amount of hair care products.

Olivia throws on a t-shirt on the way to the door. When she looks through the peephole, she gasps, swallows hard and squeezes her eyes closed as she feels her heart rate increase. Perhaps there are still some lingering effects from the cocktail of drugs forced on her, she thinks. It can't be…

Elliot.

When he knocks again she jumps. He's not a hallucination. Olivia reverses the deadbolt and slowly pulls the door open with her uninjured hand.

He's wearing a thread bare, green Jets t-shirt, a pair of well-worn jeans and some sneakers. His physicality is as obvious as it always was but it's not what draws her attention.

Elliot's eyes are bloodshot red. Whether from a very recent bender, crying on a near continuous basis or a combination thereof, she can't tell. The hands he can't seem to still, bear reddened knuckles with nasty cuts and abrasions. And, he's staring as if she's the one that's appeared on _his_ doorstep after two years. Olivia would ask if he's okay, but a more pressing question comes to her mind.

"What are you doing here?" She asks.

Elliot continues staring, seemingly taking in all her injuries.

"Elliot," she tries again.

Apparently hearing his name in her voice is enough to snap him out of his shock and perusal.

"Olivia, I…" he tries. "I'm so sorry. I-I don't," he attempts again.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head as if disgusted with himself and backs away from her.

"I-I shouldn't have bothered you," he begins turning away. "I'm gonna go."

"Well at least you said it in person this time."

Elliot freezes. His back stiffens. He clinches both fists at his sides before turning to face her again.

"Liv I just…I don't know what to say."

"So, you're gonna walk away and think it over for another two years?"

"No, I—"

"—look if you wanna go, do it. Leave. I don't have the resources to deal with you on top of everything else."

Olivia moves to close the door in his face, but Elliot places his palm against the cool surface, stopping the forward movement.

"Please," he rasps. "Can I come in?"

She holds his eyes for a few moments before backing away. He follows her inside and closes the door behind himself.

Elliot takes inventory of her as she makes the short trek to the sofa. Her walk is less confident, hair obviously chopped with her own shears, left wrist in a soft cast and red angry abrasions encircle her right wrist.

She wears a black t-shirt and jeans. Her feet are bare. He watches her gingerly sit on the edge of the couch. Elliot opts for the worn leather armchair and he can't stop looking at her.

Olivia has a cut upper lip while multicolored bruises mar her otherwise beautiful countenance.

"You're staring," she tells him.

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," she says. "Everybody's been staring."

"I'm not everybody."

"You're right," she begins. "For the last two years you've been nobody," she cuts. "So why are you here now and who the hell told you where I was?"

Elliot's never been as good at playing stoic as she is. He's obviously affected by her words, scrubbing a hand over his face and dropping his eyes to the hardwood floor.

"I was at my mom's house on the beach—well, my house now, when I caught everything on the radio," he explains.

"I thought the point of retiring was to leave the job…at the job," she says. "And I'm supposed to believe you've just been randomly listening to calls since you put in your papers?"

Elliot meets her eyes again, staring it her with an intensity she hasn't seen in anyone else.

"Not all the calls," he answers. "Just the ones out of the 1-6."

"You're not my guardian angel," she tells him. "I don't need—

"—I thought," he interrupts. "The last time I saw you was with Sister Peg's blood on your hands and Jenna Fox's on mine," he says.

"Don't you dare–

"—I know. I won't try to explain my absence now. I know it's too much," he recognizes. "But I'm here today because I wanted—I needed to see for myself that—

"—that I'm a victim?" She asks with a smirk.

"God no," he asserts. "That you survived. That you're still here," he rasps, tears blurring his eyes. "To cuss me out. To throw me out. To punch the shit out of me with your good hand if you want," he adds, not bothering to wipe away the moisture collecting on his stubbled face. "But I just…I just needed to see that you're still here, still alive."

Olivia's eyes are glassy by the time he's done.

"Of all the people reaching out to me after this nightmare," she begins. "You're the first person that should've shown up but the last I actually expected to."

"Yeah well, I'm an asshole," he admits, sniffing and finally swiping at his tears.

"I agree," she says, taking in his appearance again. "What happened to your hands?"

"The anger management techniques I've been working on with my shrink," he reveals. "They don't exactly work for a 'partner kidnapped by a sexual sadist' type of situation."

"Former partner."

He nods in agreement though he doesn't feel it. She'll never be formerly anything to him.

"So, what else has Cragen clued you in on?" She asks, surprising him.

"He didn't—

"—don't bother trying to deny it Elliot," she interrupts. "There were only three people in that office when I made the decision to come here," she adds. "Last I checked you don't answer my calls and Brian sure as hell didn't tell you."

The guilt from her words is instant. There's a list of things he owes her, the truth being in the top spot.

"Cragen said…he told me about your injuries."

"Oh, you mean the concussion, broken wrist and cracked ribs on top of leaving me with enough bruises on my face to scare small children?"

"Yes," he rasps, tightening and releasing his fists again to rub his palms on his thighs.

"What else?"

"Nothing."

"What else Elliot?" She asks, her voice raised.

He gets up and moves towards the door. Olivia pushes herself from the sofa and follows.

"What a shitty shrink that must be," she taunts. "You used to be better at this."

"I don't wanna fight," he says turning to face her.

But Olivia suddenly has the energy for one, is geared up for at least one round. She takes two steps in his direction, getting nearly chest to chest with him.

"Tell me what he said."

Elliot places is hands on his hips, eyes the floor and takes a deep breath.

"He told me…your rape kit was negative for semen or trauma."

"Yeah, so?"

"So," he says meeting her eyes again. "I've seen his jacket. I know he's a sexual sadist," he continues. "You and I both know the majority of rape kits don't show vaginal trauma," he points out. "And if you were unconscious from drugs and alcohol…why wouldn't he?"

"Because he got off on making me watch!" She tells him. "He knows how empathetic I am with victims," she adds, her voice calmer. "He knew forcing me to see him rape that woman would be worse. That I'd blame myself."

"Do you?"

"What do you think?" She asks, eyes tearing again. "I'm a cop. I'm supposed to protect people, help people," she adds. "I couldn't even help myself."

Elliot raises his hands, resting them on her shoulders.

"I hear different," he says. "I hear…that you saved a woman and her little girl out there," he continues. "And that you beat that son of a bitch within an inch of his life," he grits. "You don't need a guardian angel Liv, you fucking helped yourself."

"I wanted you there," she admits. "I shouldn't have but—

-I get it Liv," Elliot tells her, dropping his hands to his sides. "Can I…if I'm gentle…can I please hold you?"

Olivia looks back and forth between his eyes before giving him the slightest of nods. She raises her uninjured arm to his shoulder, making it easier to close the space between them. Slowly he puts his strong arms around her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. "It shouldn't have taken something like this to see you, to talk to you," he adds. "I fucked up so bad, Liv."

Surprising them both, she tightens the embrace, sliding her arm around his neck. They close their eyes at the contact, reveling in the feel of each other after such a long time.

"You're right," she says in kind. "Remind me to kick your ass after I'm all healed."

She turns her nose towards his neck, inhales his familiar scent. He rubs her back in comfort, warming her heart. After a few minutes, the two loosen their holds.

"I should go," he says, releasing her altogether. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine," she answers. "Brian should be back soon anyway."

"Brian Cassidy?" He asks, an eyebrow raised.

"You're in no position to give me shit about it," Olivia counters. "So, don't start."

He nods and manages a smile.

"You're right," he tells her. "If he's the one that makes you happy, takes care of you the way you deserve," he adds. "Then I'm all for it."

"Thank you."

Olivia walks him to the door and it's a challenge not to start crying again. She feels like this is their final goodbye. She wasn't ready for it two years ago and she sure as hell isn't ready for it the day after freeing herself from that psychopath. But he's moved on. And she needs to continue doing the same.

Elliot's at the door when he turns to face her again.

"Wait," he says, reaching for his wallet. "I almost forgot," he adds, pulling a business card out and handing it to her.

"_Elliot Stabler, Private Investigator,"_ she reads. "That's kind of—"

"—cliché, I know," he finishes. "But there's been a lot of changes in my life lately," he tells her. "Whenever you're ready…call," he says. "The new number is on the card and I promise not to be a dick and answer."

She nods and slides it into her back pocket.

He closes the distance between them again, palming her face as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I prayed so hard," he whispers against her skin as she closes her eyes. "I promised myself and God that if I got to see you again—

"Stop," she says pulling back, almost violently.

Elliot's eyes grow wide in surprise.

"I—I'm sorry," he tells her, putting his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Olivia takes a deep breath, eying the floor before meeting the regret on his face, the fear she sees in his eyes that he's added to all she's gone through.

"I don't wanna hear the empty promises you made to God for my safe return," she asserts. "Look…thanks for stopping by…for checking on me," she adds. "I'm glad you're enjoying your retirement."

He takes it for what it is, a dismissal. It's painful as hell. It's meant to be. He deserves nothing less from her.

"You're right," he says. "What I wanted to say…it was selfish," he continues. "It was for me, not you," he admits. "And I know now it's…too little, too late."

Olivia can't hold his eyes as hers tear up for the millionth time.

"But if you ever need anything," he tells her. "Any fucking thing I have is yours Liv," he contends. "I don't care how early or how late it is," he adds. "Whether there's a damn hurricane outside or a blizzard pouring ten feet of snow in my way," he goes on. "There's nothing that will stop me from coming when you call…even if it's two years from now."

She meets his eyes for those final words. And when she sees the same tears streaming down his growing beard as down her bruised face, Olivia knows he means it.

Elliot doesn't try to touch her again. He simply turns, opens the door and doesn't look back as he quietly closes it behind himself.

"Goodbye Elliot."

**End A/N: Let me know what you think folks. Maybe I'll continue it, maybe I won't. Between seasonal depression and the loss of a loved one, I'm just happy to be tapping on these keys again. **


	2. Catching Up With Elliot

**A/N: I appreciate all the positive responses from the first chapter as well as the many condolences. Writing has been my saving grace. We'll see where this goes. I really don't know yet.**

As Olivia walks into her local Starbuck's for her morning ritual of caffeine, she looks around the place after joining the line. Along with their usual shades of green and white are various up-sells for coffee mugs, tumblers and thermoses decorated in pink, red and white hearts, stripes and other patterns.

Valentine's Day.

Between trying to spend as much time with Noah and her ridiculous caseload, she'd completely forgotten about the lover's holiday. Her recent break-up with Tucker didn't exactly leave her heartbroken. After all, she'd seen it coming long before he did. It happened the same as it had with Brian.

She never really let either of them in.

Olivia kept things superficial. The lieutenant shared what every couple does. She offered that she was an only child, raised by her mom. Some of her teenage shenanigans. The college she went to. Rookie mistakes. How at some point she thought of being a teacher. Work stuff. And all the places she wants to visit from her bucket list.

But…

Tucker never knew the details of what she went through with William Lewis or the brief but traumatic undercover at Sealview. They didn't discuss her mother's alcoholism or the violence that led to her birth. She left out the miscarriage she had in college and how she thought her denials by adoption agencies were some type of punishment for not wanting that child. And any time he tried to get deeper, she'd kiss him, distract him, Noah would call for her or her phone would ring as if on cue.

Olivia entered her most recent relationships with optimism and hope. She had fun. It felt good to be wanted, to be touched, to be the center of someone's attention. And sex on a regular basis didn't hurt either. Plus she knew she had all the control in those relationships. And once she felt as if she gave all she could, little by little, she simply pulled away.

She blamed work, dodged phone calls, gave rainchecks for meals and left early when she did manage to get to them. So, if she's feeling a little lonely on sweetheart's day in a few days, there's only herself to blame. Olivia has become a serial heartbreaker. It's not intentional but after being blindsided by Elliot's alienation, her trust issues remain firmly intact. She's managed to elude her shrink of that particular subject for the last several years. Perhaps the man's overpaid.

"Welcome to Starbuck's," the young barista says. "Would you like to try the Love Bean Frappuccino?"

"Absolutely not," she tells her. "I'd like a tall caramel macchiato with an extra shot, please."

"Great, anything else?"

"No, thanks."

The young woman tells her the total and Olivia reaches into her wallet. She notices her debit card has expired, cusses because she forgot to replace it with the new one she got in the mail last week. Her fingers skip to an AMEX she hardly ever touches.

When she puts the chip-enabled card into the slot, an error message shows up. In checking it, she notices a business card stuck to the back. Olivia separates the two and tries again, this time successful.

"Thank you, Olivia," the barista says. "Your order will be up soon."

The lieutenant nods then accepts the receipt but is preoccupied by the information on the card she can't pull her eyes away from.

_Elliot Stabler, Private Investigator_

She remembers tucking it away in her wallet, meaning to call him, to reach out when she was ready. Olivia was so traumatized and emotionally raw from Lewis that it was months before she trusted herself to do her job, let alone open the can of worms that was the relationship with her former partner. Thus…she never called.

That was three years ago.

All this time and she still remembers the conflicting feelings when she opened Brian's door to find him standing on the other side. Shock, anger, relief and an inexplicable joy that annoyed the hell out of her. And the warmth and comfort she felt when he held her, longer than she'd ever allowed him to before, it was what she needed in that moment. Olivia sensed he did as well. The familiar scent of him was almost enough to make her forget how badly she'd been crushed after he ghosted her.

Almost.

Olivia turns the card over again and again as she waits. He sincerely apologized, even wanted to explain but she wasn't in a place to listen.

'_What about now?'_ her mind supplies.

She hadn't given him her new number so she can't wonder why he hasn't reached out. Elliot would never come to the station or call, wouldn't want to feel as if he was interrupting something important. He left the responsibility of any interaction entirely on Olivia. It was her who chose to keep the distance, continue the moratorium on communicating. There would have been no honest way to explain reconnecting with him to Brian or Tucker. Neither knew how he'd shut her out, but both knew how close they were and therefore wouldn't understand her desire to contact him.

After all, Elliot Stabler was yet another subject she refused to talk about in her relationships.

"Order for Olivia," another barista calls.

She tucks the card back into her wallet and picks up her drink. They've both obviously moved on with their lives. Olivia's been promoted twice since last seeing him, she adopted Noah and she's content. Whatever her former partner and his brood have been up to since last she saw him is none of her damn business.

That's what she repeats to herself all day, all week, then the rest of the month. But she kept getting reminders of him. The youth hockey league case reminded Olivia of how much he loved the Rangers and the times during his separation he tried to explain the game to her. Elliot had her cheering from his sofa and yelling profanities at the ref in a single afternoon.

The case with the female Army Ranger made her think of his USMC tattoo. She saw it on his forearm every damn time he rolled up his sleeves and when he'd taken to wearing t-shirts and jeans when she'd returned from Oregon.

Lastly, the misguided assholes sitting in group therapy for guys who believe being a rapist is genetic, was the last straw. _"Look how great you turned out,"_ echoed through her head until the case was closed. Olivia doesn't know what she'll say, doesn't know what she even wants but she knows she can't ignore the desire to call him anymore.

So, on a Thursday night after the case is closed, she puts Noah to bed, pours a glass of pinot noir and grabs her cell.

Nervous doesn't begin to cover what she's feeling. The wine stills her fingers from shaking but does nothing for her racing heart. The phone rings three times before he picks up.

"Stabler Investigations," he answers.

"Hi," she manages. "It's me…it's Olivia."

"Olivia," he repeats. "What's wrong? You okay?"

Of course, he thinks there's a problem. The last time he saw her she was a mess. He'd told her to call if she ever needed anything and here she is calling.

"I, yes," she tells him. "I'm okay," she assures him. "There's nothing wrong."

Olivia hears him exhale with relief.

"Thank God," he says. "I'm glad. It's good to hear your voice."

They've never been prone to exchanging those types of pleasantries. It's…different.

"It's good to hear your voice too," she responds, realizing she means it. "How've you been?"

He chuckles a deep, short laugh on the other end.

"I'm fine," he answers. "Keeping busy with work, seeing the kids as often as their busy social calendars allow."

She smiles to herself.

"I can imagine," she tells him. "What have they all been up to?"

"You sure you have time?" He asks.

"I have time."

"Well, Eli is really into science now," Elliot begins. "He's placed well in a couple of local science fairs and now he won't stop almost blowing up my kitchen," he tells her, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

After her week the levity is appreciated.

"Wow," she says, laughing. "I hope your insurance is paid up."

"It is," he assures her. "Liz runs her own small tech firm and Rick moved to California," he reveals. "He did his four years in the Army, gave me and Kathy a break by using the GI Bill to pay for his criminal justice degree."

"Criminal justice degree," she repeats. "He didn't…"

"He did," Elliot tells her. "Spent a year in corrections before joining the LAPD," he adds. "He doesn't hate me so much anymore."

"Wow," she says again. "That's…how'd Kathy take it?"

"She was a cop's wife for over twenty-five years," he surprises her with. "And she wasn't exactly shocked," he adds. "It was me who was blindsided but so far, so good."

"_Was_ a cop's wife?"

"Yeah Liv," he says. "The divorce…it was finalized about a week after the last time I saw you."

Her mouth is suddenly dry, so she takes another sip of wine. She doesn't know how to feel about the new information.

"Kathleen and Maureen?"

"Maureen also moved to the sunnier coast," he tells her. "She's a professional makeup artist for one of the networks," he goes on. "She meets celebrities and gets to play in the wardrobe department."

"Sounds like she's in heaven."

"Getting her and Rick back to the concrete jungle even for the holidays was like pulling teeth," Elliot admits. "But I'm glad they're enjoying their lives."

"Me too," she rasps. "And Kathleen?"

"She's a psychologist for a non-profit that helps teenagers dealing with mental health issues, intimate partner violence, sexual assault and homelessness," he beams. "I'm so damn proud of her, of all of them really but she really—

"I know," she interrupts. "I get it. She's come along way from that young girl who acted out and didn't know why."

"Yeah," he agrees. "All those years I spent in SVU, trying not to take my work home so my family wouldn't be affected, and she chooses to help people with a lot of the same issues," he continues. "She's amazing Liv and she's just…so damn good at what she does," he adds. "In fact, Kathleen encouraged me to get my head out of my ass and reach out to you on more than one occasion."

The lieutenant can't help but smile. Next to Eli, she's the Stabler child Olivia has wondered about the most over the years.

"I'm glad they're all doing so well," she says. "What about...how's Kathy?"

She can hear rustling in the background and wonders where he is, what he's doing.

"Good, great I guess," he answers. "She remarried to a pediatrician from Long Island last year," he goes on. "Kathy seems happy, he's good with Eli and things are…working out, I guess is the right way to put it."

There were times she was jealous of Kathy Stabler for having a husband who loved her and kids to love on. The day the blond told her that she was the jealous one was a shock. It was a strange period when they both had lost him temporarily, each in their own way.

"What happened?"

"We realized how hard we were trying," he answers. "And after two plus decades we really shouldn't have been struggling to connect," he continues. "We didn't have too many hours on the job or trying to coordinate multiple activities for the kids to blame anything on," he adds. "It was just us."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says. "And now that you're caught up on my life—

"You're wondering why I'm randomly calling you after all this time."

"Don't get me wrong, you don't know how much it means that you called," he tells her. "But yeah, I'm curious."

Without revealing specific details, she relays to him the last several cases that brought him to mind.

"And it's not like those are the only instances," she admits. "There have been plenty of times, plenty of cases, plenty of reasons I've thought of you since you left," she adds. "Twelve years is a long time to be in someone's life before disappearing without a word."

"Olivia I'm—

"I didn't say that to get another apology out of you," she interrupts. "I just…went so long wondering what I did, what I said that would warrant such callousness," she goes on. "Then I realized you were just a co-worker who didn't owe me an explanation and I moved on with my life…just like you have."

He exhales roughly on the other end.

"I don't have many regrets in my life," he begins. "But leaving the way I did is right there at the top of the list," he continues. "You were my partner for over a decade Liv, not just some fucking co-worker, my _partner_," he asserts. "I sure as shit owed you an explanation and there's no way in hell I should've left without giving you one."

Olivia is speechless. She may as well be standing in Cragen's office again hearing that he just put in his papers and won't be returning.

"IAB put me through hell and wanted me to perform like some damn circus animal in order to get my gun back," he starts. "After being cleared I personally told Ed Tucker to go fuck himself," he adds. "Telling Cragen was hard, he was like a surrogate father but…it was you I couldn't face."

She swipes angrily at tears. This isn't something that should still bother her, affect her so much after this length of time.

"Why not?" Olivia asks, not bothering to hide the emotion in her voice.

"I trained you, promised I'd always be around for better or worse," he says. "And there were times I stuck to that harder than the vows I took with Kathy," he goes on. "How could I tell you it was all ending? That I was gonna be one more person like…Serena or Simon that you couldn't count on?"

Tears roll down her cheeks unchecked as she listens.

"So, you thought abandoning me was the solution?" She grits. Angry but not wanting to wake Noah. "Wow."

"No Liv, no," he contends. "It wasn't the solution. It was an act of cowardice," he admits. "There's nothing I wish I could take back more," he adds. "I can't imagine how much that must've hurt, and I'll _never_ forgive myself."

Neither of them says a word for several moments. Elliot listens as she sniffs away her tears on the other end and it rips him wide open.

"Liv," he starts. "Is there any way…I can see you again?" He asks. "To what end, I don't know," he continues. "But I have to believe that you didn't call just to hear about my kids or my ex-wife," he goes on. "The truth for me is simple…I miss you," he confesses. "And there hasn't been a day that I haven't."

Olivia feels like she doesn't need this. Doesn't need him. She has Noah. Her squad is solid, and she counts on Barba's trust, strength and friendship like she used to rely on Elliot's. Any role he played in her life has been filled by someone else.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she answers. "But thank you for…confirming it wasn't something I did and giving me closure."

"Liv please," he begs. "Listen…I know you don't owe me anything," he continues. "And that you're okay with never seeing me again," he goes on. "But the last time I saw you—

"I was beaten and broken," she interrupts. "Yeah I remember."

"You're the one who beat _him_," Elliot asserts. "All I'm asking is that you give me however long it takes, to catch me up on the wonderful life of Olivia Benson," he suggests, creating a smirk he can't see. "Whether it takes five minutes or fifty, I just wanna see that you're okay Liv, that's all."

Olivia takes a deep breath, then exhales. She takes a sip of wine and makes Elliot wait for an uncomfortably long minute. She's excelling at her job. Lucy is a Godsend with Noah. And, she's juggling both successfully. There's nothing for her to prove to anyone. But maybe, just maybe she can prove to herself that she's truly over him.

"Liv," he says, interrupting her thoughts. "You still there?"

"Yeah, yes…I'm still here," she answers. "Tomorrow night, seven o'clock, Tony's Di Napoli, I'll make the reservation," she adds. "You can meet me."

"I'll be there and Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."


	3. Catching Up With Olivia

**A/N: Thank you as always for your support and taking the time to review.**

A waiter shows them to a corner booth in the popular restaurant. They sit on opposite sides, both picking up their menus. It's a large room with adequate lighting and white linen tablecloths. The place is casual but not over-the-top romantic.

A perfect place for them.

Olivia looks around to find a large party applauding a promotion, couples on first and last dates, birthdays and anniversaries being celebrated. When she finally looks across the table, her former partner's sole focus is on her.

"Any idea what you want?" She asks, an unintentionally loaded question.

Elliot clears his throat and a small smirk appears on his face at being busted.

"Uh, no," he answers, returning his eyes to the menu to peruse his options. "Not yet. Any suggestions?"

"The chicken francese is good, the shrimp scampi is even better, and you can't go wrong with the salmon oregenata," she offers. "But unless you've changed more than I think, you'll just go for the steak."

"Maybe," he says smiling enough to reveal his dimples. "But I'm more than open to trying new things," Elliot tells her. "I'm attempting to…broaden my horizons."

"Really?" She asks. "And how have you been broadening them thus far?"

"Nope, not gonna say," he responds. "This night is supposed to be about getting updated on your life," he reminds her. "So, what changes have I missed?"

A man in a white button-down, black tie and apron arrives to take their orders giving Olivia a short reprieve from answering.

"I'll have the steak," she says trying to hide her smirk with her menu. "Medium well with the spinach and steamed potatoes."

"And for you sir?" Asks the waiter.

"I'll have the chicken francese with green beans and roasted butternut squash," Elliot answers. "And a bottle of amarone della valpolicella for the table."

"Great choice," says the waiter, writing on his pad. "You must be celebrating something pretty special."

Elliot holds Olivia's eyes across the table.

"_Very _special."

He collects their menus and lets them know he'll be putting in their orders right away.

"What's this special occasion we're celebrating?" She asks, once the man has left.

"Either a new hello or a…final goodbye," he answers, surprising her. "I'm gonna trust you to let me know which by the end of the night," he adds. "So, about those changes…catch me up on everything since last I saw you."

"Everything?"

"As much as you'd like to share."

"Well, as you can see I'm all healed up," she begins, showing him her left wrist. "Munch and Cragen retired."

"I know," he says. "Munch invited me to his party, but I was helping Maureen with the big move," he explains. "And Don called, told me about his lady friend, sailing around the world," he adds. "I was more than happy for him."

"Oh, so it was just _my_ phone calls you weren't taking?" She points out. "What about Fin?" She asks. "Did he—

"No," he interrupts. "I'm sorry Olivia. I should've talked to you after the shooting. I should've told you I was thinking about putting in my papers. I should've talked to you after I'd done it," he admits. "I should've taken your calls, checked on you to see how you were adjusting and not been such a fucking coward," he concludes, his voice raised.

They garner the attention of those near them and Olivia looks around, embarrassed. After a few seconds, the others return focus to their own dinners.

"And…I'm sorry for yelling," he asserts, taking a much-needed breath. "You deserved better Liv, you still do," he continues, calmer. "You were my best friend for over a decade and I treated you like shit," he goes on. "If you wanna cut this short I understand."

There are a few uncomfortable moments before she responds.

"I don't wanna cut anything short," she says. "I get it. I had my own conflicting emotions to deal with," she adds. "Hating myself for not being able to hate you was one of them," she goes on. "But I've managed to let it go, now I have to work on the rest…on forgiving you."

Elliot fidgets with his tie, then places both hands on the small table. The self-deprecation throws her off just a bit. It's unexpected to her that he's been hating himself for how he alienated her almost as much as Olivia had. The assumption was that he was somewhere enjoying his happily ever after in Queens, not stewing in his Catholic guilt for the way he treated her.

She surprises them both by sliding a hand over one of his, deciding to cut him a break.

"You wanted to see for yourself that I'm okay," Olivia reminds him. "What else do you wanna know?"

He turns his hand over, intertwining their fingers. A silent truce.

"Whatever you wanna tell me," he responds.

"I fostered then adopted a little boy," she says with a grin. "And don't act shocked because Munch can't keep a damn secret to save his life."

"True," Elliot admits. "How old is Noah now?"

She's momentarily stunned that he knows her son's name.

"Uh, he's three and a huge handful," Olivia answers. "Getting into everything."

"Tell me about it," he says, playing with her fingers. "When they're babbling you urge them to say a few words and when they're crawling you want them to walk," he offers. "And once they start doing both, it drives you nuts."

Olivia laughs as she nods.

"Have you gotten up in the middle of the night yet and stepped on a toy car or a lego?" He asks. "I thought Maureen's first word was gonna be 'fuck'," he reminisces, making her laugh harder.

"Luckily for me he's an incredibly sound sleeper," she says once she catches her breath.

"Tell me you have pictures."

She releases his hand to get her phone from her purse. The waiter arrives to pour them a couple of glasses of the wine Elliot ordered. She scoots closer to him in the small booth and begins showing him pictures, telling him what's going on in each.

Elliot pulls out his cell and shares his most recent shots of Eli. Olivia comments on how much he's grown and how handsome he is. Their food arrives and the two spend dinner swapping stories of all the strange, ridiculous hilarity of their children's antics.

Between those funny tales, the great food and the bottle of wine they split, the conversation becomes more open and the smiles come easier. Olivia stops looking to her phone, hoping for an interruption. She simply enjoys the company of her former partner, amazed at the comfort being in his presence again has brought.

They split a decadent slice of chocolate cake topped with raspberry sauce for dessert. Her lips draw his immediate attention when she barely stifles a moan after the first bite. The heat in his eyes has never been directed at her. Of course, Olivia caught him looking at her assets more than once over the years, but the way he's eying her now with his storm ravaged blues…

"Do I have something on my face?" She asks, breaking his trance.

"Uh, no," Elliot answers, looking away. "Not at all," he adds. "Just thinking how good this must be," he tells her, forking his own piece of cake.

"It definitely is," she confirms.

Olivia watches as he closes his eyes for a moment.

"Wow, that _is_ good," he comments. "Maybe I should get the recipe from the chef."

"Really?" She asks, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, it's a new hobby," he confesses, taking another bite.

"I guess that counts as broadening your horizons," she says, mimicking his actions. "But baking?"

"Yes, I bake," Elliot answers. "What? A man can't bake?"

She grins, shaking her head.

"A man can absolutely bake," she tells him. "I just can't picture you in an apron up to your elbows in flour."

"See, that's how much you know," he begins. "I clean up as I go so I'll never be up to my elbows in anything," he adds. "I _cannot_ create in a dirty kitchen."

Again, she laughs.

"Who the hell are you and what have you done with the real Elliot Stabler?"

"I'm the same guy you've always known Liv," he tells her. "Just trying to…I don't know…embrace the things I can't control," he goes on. "Channel my anger into more positive things."

"Like cobblers, tortes and pies," she ribs with a smile. "The other room moms at Eli's school must be _so_ jealous."

"Go ahead, make fun," he says with a grin. "See if you ever taste any of my baked goods."

Elliot surprises her yet again by taking her fork and feeding her the last piece of cake. He's eying her as if he'd like to chase it with a kiss when the waiter shows up. They hadn't noticed that they've closed with the restaurant, two of only four other people that remain.

"I guess we should get going," he comments after the waiter returns his credit card.

Elliot helps her on with her wool trench, admiring the curve hugging black dress trimmed in matching leather she adorned for their uncategorized "meeting".

Neither can call it a date.

Those tend to happen between two people who don't know one another. They hardly qualify.

"I forgot to say it when I saw you but, you look incredible Liv," he compliments. "Or should I say lieutenant," he adds, making her blush. "I'm so damn proud of you."

"Thanks El."

She can feel the weight of his hand on the small of her back as he follows her out of the restaurant. It's familiar, comforting.

"So," he begins, facing her as they step out onto the street. "You're really okay?"

"Yeah," she smiles. "I have good and bad days like everyone else," she continues. "But work keeps my mind focused and Noah is the light in all that darkness," she adds. "Every day with him is a gift so yeah, I'm a hell of a lot better than I was the last time you saw me," she informs him. "Stronger."

"I can see that," he comments. "And…Noah's a lucky kid," Elliot tells her as they begin walking, the direction chosen randomly but he follows, walking at her side. "I'm so happy for you."

"I'm the lucky one," she disagrees. "I thought I'd never become a mother but…along came my son."

They continue talking and walking, enjoying one another's company. Unbeknownst to Elliot they end up outside Olivia's new apartment building. She allows him to walk her up before she says goodnight and possibly goodbye forever.

And after a few hours of wine, laughter, reminiscing and a warm familiarity in their conversation, it's a decision she's struggling with.

"At Brian's apartment…you told me you promised God something if you saw me again," she reminds him. "But I wasn't in a place to hear whatever that was," she continues as they reach her door.

Olivia gets into her apartment. Doesn't bother making introductions between he and her nanny. The woman tells her that Noah's already bathed and fed and is waiting for his bedtime story.

"Thanks Lucy," she says. "See you Monday," she adds just before the door closes.

It's only been a couple of months since Tucker. There's no way in hell she's letting Elliot meet her son now. Likely never.

She just…isn't sure.

"Have a seat," Olivia tells him, removing her coat and dropping her purse on the foyer table. "I'll be back."

Elliot hangs his coat over an armchair but doesn't sit. He noses around like the natural investigator he is. He takes in all the toys, notices what looks more played with than others. Those will be her son's favorites. He sees pictures of mother and child together. There are group shots with whom he assumes is her new squad. They look happy, cohesive and exceedingly familial. He remembers how great that felt aside from what he had with Kathy and his children.

There are cookbooks on her kitchen counter. Bananas and apples at the breakfast bar. Cereal boxes occupy the shelf near the cupboards. A child's magnets attached to the freezer door. A soft looking throw is on the back of the sofa. Books on new interview techniques and how the brain changes with trauma are mixed in with literary classics on the shelves lining her walls.

This is Olivia's home now. Her life. And it looks content. Full. And therefore, he can't help but ask himself_, "What room is there for me?"_

Allowing him back into her inner circle will be her choice because clearly she doesn't need him there. The squad and her son seem to be enough. She doesn't need to be guided. Doesn't need to be rescued. Doesn't need to be in a relationship for her life to be complete.

So, if a disruption or interruption to her life is all he has to offer, he should say his goodbyes tonight.

Whatever that looks like.

When Olivia returns, she finds Elliot staring pensively out the window into the darkness of the night sky and the twinkling of the city lights.

"Still here, huh?"

She can see the smile on his face in the reflection of the window before he faces her. Dressed in a V-neck, yoga pants and bare feet, she looks a hell of a lot more comfortable than he feels.

"Unless you're kicking me out, yeah," he answers, hands in his pockets.

"Not just yet, no," she says, smirking.

"How many stories did it take to get him to sleep?"

"Three," she admits. "Luckily for me once he's down, he's out until morning."

"Not Eli," he counters. "Sleep seems to be his enemy. He likes to get up at the crack of dawn and wakes up at the creak of a floorboard."

"Detective instincts," Olivia comments. "If you're lucky he won't get into the family business," she adds, sitting on the sofa. "Wasn't there something you needed to tell me?"

She folds her legs beneath her, rests one arm on the back of the couch preparing to listen. He loosens his tie and lays his blazer on the back of the sofa, finding his own measure of comfort.

"You said you weren't in a place to hear it then," Elliot reminds her. "You're in a place to hear it now?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Are you sure?" He asks, sitting next to her.

"Yes," she asserts.

"I promised God that if I got to see you again I'd tell you that…every day you were my partner, made me a better cop," he begins. "And every kick in the ass you gave me as a friend…made me a better man," he adds. "For any time I made you feel inadequate or less important for being single or not having a child of your own, I'm genuinely sorry," he goes on. "I took what we had for granted…I took _you_ for granted and I hope someday you can forgive me."

She takes a deep breath, temporarily looking over his shoulder and eying the pictures of her family.

"I've been trying like hell," Olivia confesses, meeting his eyes again. "I've worked through so many things with my shrink and that's the one thing I'm stuck on," she admits. "He told me as long as the shadow of you and the way you left lives inside me," she continues. "That I'll never fully commit to any man without expecting him to do the same," she informs him. "That I'll leave them before they can leave me."

"Is he right?"

Aside from David Hayden and Olivia ending things due to an inevitable conflict of interests, Dr. Lindstrom hasn't been wrong. She pulled away from Cassidy _and_ Tucker. Never let them in. Never shared anything of depth or importance. Never bared her soul. Olivia trusted her former partner to a fault but can't seem to extend that level of faith to anyone else after his unexpected exodus.

"Well, I _am_ still single," she goes with. "I could blame it on the job or needing to spend time with Noah but if I'm being honest…I let you see sides of myself that I'd never shown to anyone," she confesses. "That didn't turn out so well for me so…"

He exhales, shakes his head.

"I'm not even in your life anymore yet I'm still managing to fuck things up for you," he interrupts. "No wonder you never called after everything you went through."

It's quiet between them for a few minutes, both ruminating on what will move them beyond this moment, either apart or together.

"Whatever I can say or do to help you...move on," he manages, much as he hates to say the words. "I'll do it."

"Give me your hand," Olivia tells him.

"What?"

"Give me your hand," she repeats.

Elliot moves his left into both of hers. She meets his palm with one hand, while running over his digits with the other, stopping on his ring finger.

"I watched you for twelve years," she begins. "The way you walked, your facial expressions, body language and these hands," she continues. "These fingers."

"I watched you too," he confesses.

"I know," she smirks, continuing her ministrations. "But every time I thought I saw something more than partnership or friendship in your eyes…I looked at this finger," she reveals. "The gold band around it, what that meant," she adds. "I got so good at focusing on that ring that I kept seeing it…even when it disappeared one day," she goes on. "Maybe it'd help to know it wasn't just me."

Elliot closes his hand over both of hers.

"You weren't imagining things," he assures her. "Not then and not tonight," he adds. "As long as we were partners it was a line I knew I shouldn't cross," he explains. "There were so many times I wanted to take your hand, be free to hold you…knock on your door and say fuck the rules and fuck the so-called complications," he continues. "But we're not partners anymore," he adds. "There's no ring and no NYPD regulations…just us."

"This is supposed to be it Elliot," she reminds him. "A night of catching up before we part ways."

"Okay," he says, sighing disappointedly. "You're right, that's what we agreed to."

Elliot releases her hands and gets up. He grabs his suit jacket from the back of the sofa then heads to retreat his coat from the armchair. Olivia watches, a weight of sadness tugging at her heart as she meets him there.

"There is one more thing I promised to say to you if I ever got the chance," he rasps, facing her before grabbing his trench. "I love you Olivia Benson…you deserve all the good that's happened to you since I left and so much more."

Her eyes glisten with tears as Elliot closes the distance between them, palming the smooth skin of her cheeks. She's focused on his lips as he leans down. They're softer than she imagined as Elliot moves them against hers. She slides her hands beneath his blazer, puts her arms around his waist, pulling him to her and deepening the kiss beyond his intention.

He tastes like wine and chocolate. He smells like the close quarters of a brown unmarked squad car. He feels like a righteous confession after a long interrogation. The way he's moaned, he sounds like he's enjoying their first kiss just as much as she is. And the look in his eyes when they finally pause to breathe, she knows their unspoken communication is still very much intact. They're in agreement.

One night.

**End A/N: Only one more after this. **


	4. Closure

**A/N: Thanks again for all those who've taken time to review. Your comments mean the world to me. Rated strong M for adult content.**

_One night._

Olivia pulls her arms from around him, slides her hands up his tie to loosen it. He tosses it on the foyer table as she begins work on the buttons of his dress shirt. Before he can peel it off she takes his hand.

"You wanna stop?"

"No," she answers with a smile. "Change of venue," she adds, leading him to her bedroom.

Once behind her door, she continues stripping him. She slides her palms beneath his t-shirt, feeling the solidity of his chest as she takes the material with her. Elliot moves in to kiss her again, this time covering her neck with his warm opened mouth.

Then he stops to pull her into a hug. Olivia knows what he's doing. Giving them a pause. Time to think. Wanting her to be sure she wants this. Wants _him_ after all she's been through. After all these years. After how deeply he hurt her knowing she never expected him to be the one that did.

She takes the time.

Olivia inhales the familiar scent of his masculinity, feels his heart beating against her chest, recognizes how he's holding her gently but closely. There is no light or space between them. She can't think of a single reason not to allow them this together. She turns her face against Elliot's neck, answering him by opening her mouth against his skin.

But when she feels him lifting her shirt, she places her hands over his.

"There are some scars from the—

He silences her by covering her mouth with his, plundering inside with his tongue, tickling the roof before pulling away with a small nibble to her lower lip. Whatever doubts or insecurities she has instantly vanish. There are no butterflies, no nervousness just unbridled desire.

"I don't care," he rasps.

The V-neck drops to her carpeted floor seconds later. There's no look of pity. He's not some immature man turned off by faded burn marks. Seeing her tanned flesh encased in lavender satin and lace, Elliot's eyes darken to a shade of sapphire she's never seen in them before.

"So. Fucking. Beautiful," he says, running the backs of his fingers over her soft abdomen.

Elliot threads his other hand through her honey streaked locs and claims her mouth again. He kisses her like he approaches anything else, full of passion and intensity. Olivia's heart is racing, her skin is feverish, and she wants him as much as that last piece of chocolate raspberry cake.

He toes off socks and shoes while devouring her mouth. She unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants before snaking a hand inside his boxer briefs. Elliot growls as she strokes him, running her fingers up and down his shaft, then cupping him until he stops her.

"My turn," he tells her, releasing her hold on him.

He smooths his hands over the curves of her ass, picks her up, laying Olivia on the bed before covering her body with his own. Elliot plants kisses from her shoulders, to the breasts he ogled for years and down her stomach. The yoga pants slide easily away from her legs as her former partner continues discovering her lush body.

Elliot pauses to step out of his dress pants before reconnecting with her waiting form. Not willing to be a passive participant, she flips them, straddling his thighs. Olivia rubs her hands up and down his chest and abdomen before replacing her palms with her lips.

She laps at his nipples, reverently tracing the scars of his chest as she remembers where most of them came from. The sounds he emits are between a grown and a growl as he hardens beneath her. His work hewn hands run up and down the warm flesh of her back, discovering every valley and plain that often found themselves in more than one waking dream.

When she reaches to unclasp her bra, he stops her.

"Don't," he says, causing a moment of confusion. "You have no idea how many times I've imagined undressing you."

Olivia grins, her eyes nearly black at his admission.

"Then by all means…"

Elliot raises up, getting them chest to chest as he unclasps her bra, tossing it to the floor. The predatory expression that immediately covers his face is one she's never been privy to. He covers her right breast with his hand, rubbing his thumb against her nipple as he attaches his lips to the other.

She slides her palms to the back of his nape, encouraging him to continue. The way his warm rough hands and his talented mouth are working her up, she may orgasm solely from this. He turns them again, putting her back against the mattress. Elliot licks to moisten her nipple before blowing on her skin, pebbling the surrounding areola.

He drags his tongue between her cleavage then trails heated moist kisses down her stomach until he meets the waist of her panties. He begins tugging when she stops him.

"Wait," she stalls with a smirk. "I have my own fantasies."

"Do tell lieutenant," he says grinning as he sits up.

"Ditch the underwear Stabler," Olivia orders. "I wanna watch you."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, biting his lower lip. Elliot stands at the foot of the bed, grasps the waist of his black boxer briefs and leisurely slides them down his toned, muscled thighs.

She fights the urge to clench her legs shut.

Elliot stripped off his shirt in front of her plenty of times. She's seen him in shorts before going for a run. But she has only fantasized about seeing her former partner the way God must've sculpted Adam. To witness it for herself has her feeling like a teenager on prom night.

He smirks at the blatant lust in her eyes before leaning towards her again. This time Olivia doesn't stop him when he reaches for her matching lavender satin and lace panties. Passionate kisses from her calves to her inner thighs, melt away any doubts she has about what they're about to do.

When he penetrates her with the thickness of one of his fingers her breath catches. Once he runs his tongue over then suckles that soft bundle of nerves, Olivia nearly stops breathing. Doing both at the same time has her squirming in under a minute.

One of her hands manipulates her breast while the other finds Elliot's head. She thinks her former partner is relentless with his mouth and his right hand until his left reaches up and takes hold of her other breast, tweaking her nipple.

Multitasking at its finest.

She's moaning and panting in ecstasy. Rolling her hips against his mouth is a natural response to the pleasure Elliot's providing. Between the texture of his tongue on her sensitive nub and the simultaneous rhythmic pumping of his fingers, Olivia has zero hope of staving off her rapidly approaching eruption.

As much as the urge to do so builds, she dares not scream his name. He's already tattooed on her skin and it'll be damn near impossible not comparing other men to him in the future.

When her orgasm hits, the very breath is stolen from her body as her back arches off the mattress. One hand rests on her face in disbelief that it's him that's done this, the other slides off her breast, now limp against the bed, speechless.

Elliot kisses his way up her body, planting his waist between her thighs. She tastes a heady mix of herself and their dessert as he kisses her deeply. Olivia palms his face, enthusiastically running her tongue against his while he rubs himself against her newly moistened folds, causing a throaty moan.

"You taste so damn good," he whispers a breath away from her lips once they come up for air. "I've wanted to do that so many times."

"I've _wanted_ you to do that so many times," she reveals with a smirk.

"Another fantasy?" Elliot asks.

"Absolutely."

"What else is on the list?"

Olivia rolls her hips against him, feeling him twitch beneath her.

"I think you know," she says. "But what about_ your_ fantasies?"

Elliot wastes no time flipping them so that she's on top. She raises up to straddle him, smiling because she enjoys the view.

"Wow," she responds. "And here I thought all that alpha maleness of yours would have you loving missionary and in control all the time."

He folds his arms beneath his head, smiling up at her like a Cheshire cat.

"I love feeling the weight of you on top of me," he tells her, caressing her hips. "And the scenery from this angle ain't all that bad either."

"So, Elliot Stabler's a breast man, huh?"

His hands slide from her hips to her chest, enjoying the weight of them before teasing her nipples.

"I am," he answers. "But I don't know if you've noticed that I'm equally pleased with the rest of your body too."

"I _have_ noticed," she smirks, rubbing herself against his impressive erection. "And I think it's time to show you just how pleased I am with one particular part of your anatomy."

She pulls open the drawer of her bedside table, pushes aside other colors in favor of a gold foil package with black letters and tears it open with her teeth.

Olivia leans forward to kiss him, rubbing circles over his right nipple with her thumb as she inches herself over his length, unsurprised at how completely he fills her. She rises and swells over Elliot as he grasps her thighs. He sits up, meeting her lips as they create a slow, intense friction.

"God you feel good," she rasps against his neck, arms loosely around his shoulders.

They move together lazily, like it's a Sunday morning and they have no more important a place to be. At one moment she pulls back with a smile, just to memorize the expression of arousal on his face, only to find him doing the same. He leans in to whisper naughty little things, sensual things and increasingly non-partnerly things as she encases Elliot, and he fits so perfectly inside her.

Olivia will be sore for days and with the way he's marking her she'll have to get creative with some concealer as well. But she welcomes the evidence because one thing she knows for sure is that she'll never regret finally succumbing to her baser instincts where Elliot's concerned.

Perhaps this form of closure is exactly what she needed, what they both have.

"I've missed you so fucking much," he rasps against her skin.

"Me too El," she manages. "Me too."

Inevitably they get impatient for release. Elliot flips them again, pulls her thighs over each of his hips, getting deeper than their previous position allowed. He stimulates her walls, delivering harder, faster strokes with specific intention.

"Fuck yes," she breathes.

It feels so incredible that she tries to hold on, tries to delay her impending explosion. But it's useless. Once he reaches between them with the rough pad of his thumb, Olivia shatters with an intensity she hasn't felt since her days in college and her bedmate follows shortly after, rasping her name with his own orgasm.

Elliot's arms collapse as he rests his head on her chest. They're both sweaty, out of breath and completely sated. It's quiet between them for a few minutes, each waiting for their heart rates to return to normal. When ready, he removes the condom and ditches it into a nearby waste bin before joining his former partner beneath the covers.

Olivia instantly rolls into his side, resting her palm over his heart. He threads a hand through her tresses before leaning down to press a kiss atop her head.

"Why doesn't this feel as awkward as it should?" She asks, breaking the silence. "I mean…I haven't seen you in three years and before that was another three years of radio silence," she continues. "This shouldn't feel so—

"Natural?"

"Yeah," she agrees. "Is it just me?"

"Definitely not," he tells her, intertwining his fingers with the hand she has on his chest. "But we always had chemistry," he reminds her. "Anytime we went undercover as a couple, we were easily believed," he adds. "How many times did suspects, cops, hell…Don, insinuate we were sleeping together or thought we were too damn close?"

"Kathy too?"

"Yeah," Elliot divulges. "She believed we didn't have an affair while we worked together but she also expected me to track you down and fall into your bed the second the ink was dry on the divorce papers," he reveals. "Kathy said I was an asshole for distancing myself from you, that she never thought fear would keep me from someone I so obviously needed."

"That's…a lot…to process," Olivia admits, moving off him to lay on her side. "All I expected from you after you decided to put in your papers was a conversation," she adds. "Maybe keep in touch, have a drink after a hard case every now and then," she continues. "I never thought—

"That I could want you?" Elliot asks, rolling on his side to face her. "Or love you?" He questions, caressing the soft skin at her waist. "What I did wasn't a reflection on you or anything you said, didn't say, do or didn't do," he continues. "It was my inability to say all the important shit I kept to myself…but I'm working on that."

"I really needed to hear that important shit," she whispers, rubbing a thumb against his stubbled chin. "But we all have things we're still working on."

"True," he agrees. "And I for one, would rather spend whatever time I have until you kick me out on more…pleasurable conversation."

When he leans forward, drawing a nipple into the warmth of his mouth, she sighs. _"He's so_ _damn good at that_," Olivia thinks.

"What happened to conversation?" She asks but palms the back of his head in encouragement.

"You never heard of body language?" He grins as he looks up at her, making her laugh.

"That was so damn cheesy," she tells him.

"But is it working?"

Olivia reaches over to her side table for another gold foil package.

"What do you think?" She asks.

The two explore each other in every position they can manage.

They make slow passionate love born out of nearly two decades of resisting temptation of heart and body. Pure lust has him bending her over the counter and taking her from behind when they venture into the kitchen for a late-night snack. And it is anger that fuels them both when he fucks her against the wall of her bedroom, leaving him with a bite to his shoulder and bruises to her thighs. Elliot mad at her choice of bedmates, Olivia at the jealousy he's not entitled to, telling him about Tucker a pleasurable mistake.

They purge themselves of twelve years of unspoken and denied emotions, both positive and negative. And once they're both satisfied, worn out and spent physically and emotionally…they talk. The present and former detectives discuss missed opportunities, mixed messages and jealousy on both their parts. How they both thought they'd share a retirement party.

Elliot and Olivia reminisce over a decade of stakeout games, her changing hairstyles, his kids' antics as toddlers, her weirdest open and shut cases, his craziest P.I. stories and all the places they'd go if only they made the time and had the money. The last thing she remembers before losing consciousness is the softness of his lips against her shoulder.

They manage to sleep for several hours, wrapped in one another's arms until a blinding, fiery glow breaks through the curtains, urging her out of bed and into the bathroom. Toothpaste won't soon alleviate the flavor of their kisses from her mouth. It'll take more than one attempt with her bodywash to get rid of Elliot's scent. And the ache in her muscles from last night's strenuous but gratifying activities will last for days.

Emotionally and mentally, Olivia feels lighter. A weight has been lifted and Elliot had everything to do with that. And as much as the amazing sex helped, it isn't what has brought bone-deep relief. Talking to someone who just gets it with few words, cleansing herself of all the hurt and anger, and reestablishing the connection, despite how temporary, with the person who knows her best in the world, is what's given her the kind of peace that can only be attained after getting the closure she didn't have.

Olivia knows, feels, believes that the night accomplished exactly what they both wanted. She can move on now.

Once out of the shower, she smells the aromatic scent of her dark roast brewing in the kitchen. Olivia pulls a fresh bra and panties from her drawers, dons her favorite comfortable robe and follows her nose.

Elliot is redressed sans jacket and tie, leaning against her counter, sipping from a mug. She can't help but smile at the image.

"Morning," he whispers, handing her a prepared cup after he brushes his lips against hers.

"Thank you," she says, taking a sip.

It's exactly the way she's always liked it and there is no morning-after awkwardness between them.

"You remembered."

"Twelve years," Elliot tells her with a shrug. "Had a lot of practice."

They drink their coffee together. He looks at her predatorily like Olivia's lounging at the sink naked. She blushes, trying to hide her grin behind her mug as if he hasn't already seen her wearing nothing but skin. Then he eyes his watch. Time to go.

The easy smiles fall from their faces.

"He'll be up in less than an hour," Olivia says, taking a breath. "Ready for his morning cartoons."

"I remember."

Elliot walks out of the kitchen with her in tow. She watches as he fastens his tie, puts his jacket back on and heads to the chair for his coat. He throws the trench over his arm before reaching for the doorknob.

"Wait," she says, desperate.

Olivia approaches him, rests both hands against his chest before sliding her arms up and around his neck. She gets on the tips of her toes as he leans down. Their lips meet, both instantly deepening the kiss with the need and passion of two people saying goodbye.

Once they stop to breathe, they hold each other, knowing it's likely the last time. Minutes pass before they pull back, both reluctant to end their special night and walk away, yet realizing they need to.

"You gotta know El…I love you too," she confesses. "I can't remember a time when I didn't, but I'm not—

"I know," he interrupts, swiping at the tears she hadn't noticed on her cheeks. "Whenever, wherever, whatever you need," he promises. Then, after a few more moments with her in his arms he pulls away, "Bye Liv."

The door closes quietly, she throws the deadbolt in place, resting a palm against the cool surface.

"Bye El."

A minute later she hears Noah stirring before he calls out for her. Olivia wipes the last vestiges of moisture from her face, tightens her robe and starts the day with her son and the amazing life she's made for them.

THE END…

**A/N: Sometimes the ending you get isn't the ending you want. Remember this when our beloved show wraps for the last time, whenever that may be. I honestly believe she's getting all the happiness TPTB will allow by having Noah. Who's to say that isn't enough? Millions of women have careers and/or kids but aren't in relationships and still have joy. Let's stop assuming she's pining away for Elliot or anyone else. She's gonna raise her son, appreciate her friends, travel when she can and enjoy a glass or two of Nero d'Avola every now and then. Olivia Benson is nobody's desperate cat lady, lol. It's a departure from my normally 'happily ever after' but I hope you liked the read. And you never know what those ellipses after that 'The End' can lead to. **


	5. This Is It

**A/N: Saw that last ep and decided to continue this. Olivia needs someone for all that pain and loss. Why not him? Forgive any errors. I don't do betas. **

"_What a fucking horrible few months_," she thinks. She told Fin to give her a minute only a week ago and she would be her classically "fine" self. But they both knew it was bullshit the second it fell from her lips.

Simon overdosed.

Her old friend Rachel Wilson died by suicide.

Kat's rabbi Ralphie Morris died by suicide.

Ed Tucker…died by suicide.

She knows she's having trouble with it. With all of it really. Her focus has been the job and a son that's growing up too fast for her liking. One gives her purpose. The other, a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

But after the last couple of weeks, not even Noah has been enough to return the smile to her face and after Carisi subpoenas Dr. Lindstrom, she can't exactly go to him to talk so, she drives. Her son is thankfully at a sleepover. It took a while for her to be able to trust someone with her child again but that's a front she's made progress on.

It's herself she's worried about now. Olivia knows she's not suicidal. Nowhere close to it. But she's mentally and emotionally full, filled, bursting at the seams with too much all at once.

So…she drives.

Initially she simply wants to relax but skyscrapers turn into brick Tudors. Local roads turn into highways. Condos turn into beach houses. Next thing she knows there's a sign that says, "_Welcome to New Jersey_".

It's not long until she's smelling the salt in the air.

After taking the time to stop for gas, she texts him asking to stop by and waits, hoping he's there and not in the city. In the three years since she's last seen or spoken to her former partner, he could've changed his number. Hell, he could've joined the two out of his five offspring that reside in California.

_Cu whn u get here_ is his reply.

Elliot could be dating someone or remarried like Ed. Maybe she rings his doorbell at the beachside cottage and it's a beautiful woman that answers. Maybe he says their last encounter was supposed to be their final goodbye and fuck her because she's the one that wanted it that way.

What does she do?

What does she say?

After a two-and-a-half-hour drive she has minutes to come up with something should that scenario play out. A dark gray Honda Accord is parked in the driveway. It's a car that blends in, is subtle and it's good for surveillance if he's still a private investigator.

Now she has seconds.

Olivia doesn't bother looking in the mirror. She's been crying. Her nose is red, her eyes are puffy, and her expensive so-called waterproof mascara is likely ruined. She does what she can with a tissue from her purse, takes a deep breath and rings the bell.

Between the breeze and the windchimes, she isn't surprised that it takes him a minute or two to register the sound. Time seems to stop once he's staring at her through the screen.

He's lost weight but still physically imposing. There's more forehead but less hair with extra gray. The lived-in jeans and azure V-neck sweater is a good look for him and so is the goatee trimmed neatly to contour his face. But his expression of relaxation quickly changes to one of concern when he sees what she's wearing.

She's getting an overabundance of use out of her dress blues lately. Too bad it's due to funerals instead of promotions or other formal events. Her contact after such a long time leads him to conclude that she's not wearing it for a more positive occasion.

"Olivia."

He quickly opens the screen door, stepping out in his stocking feet.

"What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" She asks, a dry laugh following.

With a slight tilt of his head, he takes inventory. Her shoulders are slumped, she's fidgeting with her hands and she can't seem to maintain eye contact.

"Liv just—"

"If I'm interrupting something or you have company I can leave, I—"

"Olivia," he says, stopping her rambling. "You drove over two hours to get here," he adds. "There's no way in hell I'm sending you back to Manhattan," he goes on. "Especially with this rainstorm coming."

She feels as if a hurricane has already hit her.

"I…I didn't even check the weather," she says. "Maybe I should try and—"

Elliot steps forward and grabs her hand, the contact immediately stopping any thought of making excuses to leave. She raises her eyes to his, holding onto his gaze, still just as blue and deep as she remembers.

"Come inside," he urges, understanding her hesitation. "There's no one here but me."

Olivia nods her acquiescence and follows him, closing both doors behind herself once they're inside the warmth of his home. After she removes her wool trench and scarf, he takes them to hang on a nearby rack.

"Make yourself comfortable," Elliot says, turning the television off before returning the remote to the coffee table. "I'll be right back."

She takes the time to look around. A fire blazes below a mantle lined with pictures of what she assumes are multiple branches of the Stabler family tree. There's a shadowbox with his officer and detective badges. Bernie's artwork is now framed. Various knickknacks are sporadically placed. A brown well-worn leather sofa sits in front of a steam trunk coffee table, a cozy looking throw draped over the back. Everything is wholly masculine, wholly Elliot.

To her relief, she doesn't recognize a single feminine touch.

"Here you go," he says, offering her a tumbler matching the one sitting next to the book on the end table. "Whiskey," he explains. "Seems like you could use it."

"Thanks," she tells him, accepting the glass and taking a sip. "Smooth."

Olivia rests in the corner of the worn leather sofa, Elliot in the adjacent armchair. Both wondering why she's here after all this time. But he doesn't push, doesn't prompt, doesn't try to fill the time with pleasantries.

The wind picks up outside as the rain starts to hit hard against the window. Olivia knows she's safe with him in more ways than one can count. Perhaps it shouldn't still be so easy between them, but it is.

The drink is warming her inside, her proximity to the fire, comfortably heats the rest. Despite the calamity beginning outside, she feels a sense of calm she hasn't felt in months.

"Your mom move back to the city?"

"No," he answers. "She…died three years ago," he explains. "We reconnected after the divorce, another reunion Katie urged," he continues. "I brought Eli here every weekend that summer. She got him into painting, he got her into Japanese cartoons."

Olivia takes another sip before placing the tumbler on the table in front of her.

"What happened?"

"Drunk driver came barreling through a crosswalk," he answers. "Eli was with her. She pushed him out of the way, saved his life."

"God Elliot, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he tells her. "Thanks to Katie I learned and understood more about my mother in those three months than I did during my entire childhood," he goes on. "They say she died on impact. Didn't suffer. I only regret the ignorance that kept me away from her all those years," he continues. "Eli was shaken up for awhile but he's okay now."

"Family can be…messy," Olivia offers, tears blurring the flames before her. She takes another breath then, "Simon's dead."

"What? How? When?" He asks in succession.

"Last month. Melinda said he overdosed but that he'd been clean for years before we ran into each other," she explains. "He was supposed to meet Noah, try to get to know him at a lunch we set up and when he didn't show…I left a message for Simon not to contact me again."

Never handling her upset well, Elliot moves to sit next to her on the sofa.

"You can't blame yourself for his overdose."

"What if that rejection was the last thing he heard before he put that needle in his arm?" She asks. "What if I—"

"No, Liv," he interrupts, rubbing her back. "It's just as likely he was trying to get up the courage to have that lunch," he adds. "Addiction is ugly, it's complicated and whether he had five years or twenty-five years clean, it was always gonna be there."

"I know," she agrees. "But…it turns out he was just the first of three others in my life."

"You know three other people who OD'd?"

"No," she answers. "I don't know how much you've kept up with since you retired but the suicide rate in the NYPD has gotten out of hand," she advises. "Last week a woman I knew from the academy fired a gun into her chest," she continues. "She was beaten and raped years ago by a superior officer, reported it to IAB but it went nowhere."

"I spent most of my career in SVU," he says. "I know what never getting justice does to victims especially when you have to continue seeing your victimizer."

"Yeah. She spiraled down a dark hole then took her own life never getting that justice," she tells him. "And we got the guy but not without two more casualties during the case."

Olivia gets up, moving to a window to watch the beads of water as they stream down the pane, yet not really seeing them.

"One of my detectives' rabbi worked with the guy too. Shot himself two hours after we talked to him," she continues. "My shrink was the last person he spoke with before pulling the trigger."

"Damn."

"Damn is right," she says, laughing dryly. "I tried to talk to him about helping us but—"

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," he concludes. "Extends even after death."

"Guess that's why the subpoena didn't work," she quips, leaning against the sill. "But he did lead us to Tucker."

Olivia drops her gaze to the hardwood floors but not before Elliot has seen the sudden return of her tears.

"Don't tell me—"

"No, Ed was not her rapist," she interrupts. "The bad guy was Tucker's former partner before he joined IAB," she explains. "He helped us nail the bastard then he went home to his wife, locked—locked himself inside the study and—and…"

Olivia's in Elliot's comforting embrace before she can finish. It's reminiscent of what they shared after Sonja's death. Without his shoes they are eye to eye when she finally pulls back.

"Tucker had brain cancer," she explains. "He was starting to forget things, losing himself."

"And he wasn't gonna spend his last days having his wife wiping the drool off his chin," he infers. "Can't say I wouldn't do the same even though I don't believe in suicide," he goes on. "I get it."

"I knew you would."

"Do you regret breaking things off with him?"

"I regret the way I did it but no…he wanted me to consider walking away from SVU and into retirement with him," she explains. "I wasn't ready and between the squad and Noah…"

"Too many balls in the air," he comments, placing a stray hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," she agrees, releasing him altogether then returning to the sofa. Olivia reclaims her seat and the glass of whiskey. He joins her shortly after.

"At least I got to say goodbye."

"I'm glad," Elliot comments. "I've learned how important those goodbyes are," he adds. "The last thing I said to my mom was '_don't let your grandson talk you into junk before_ _dinner_'," he admits with a smile. "But she knew I loved her, and I won't fail again at letting those that matter to me know that."

It's Olivia reaching for his hand this time.

"And speaking of goodbyes…"

"What the hell am I doing here?" She asks.

"Hey, no," he says, subtly squeezing her hand. "I told you whenever, wherever, whatever you need," he reminds her. "Just wondering why three years seems to be your thing," he adds with a smirk.

"I have no idea," she tells him. "When I called you then, I was just looking for the closure I never got," Olivia manages. "I didn't know you needed it too," she adds. "I didn't know…how we'd spend that night."

She can't hold his gaze any longer, hiding hers behind taking a sip of whiskey before placing it on the end table. When he begins running his thumb over her fingers, she can't ignore him anymore.

"Watching you go…it was hard," Olivia confesses.

"It was hard to leave knowing you wanted me to stay as much as I did," he admits, releasing her hand to palm her cheek. "And I'm sorry your hurting Liv. So much grief and mourning in such a small period," he goes on. "If your squad is half as good as I know they are, no one is buying the 'I'm fine' bullshit, least of all Fin."

For this she manages to crack a smile.

"Not even a little bit."

"You don't have to be 'fine' with me," he contends. "When we're in pain as adults we need the same thing, we did as kids."

"Someone to kiss our boo-boos?" She asks wiping at a stray tear.

"Yes," he answers with a grin. "And to hold us and tell us everything's gonna be okay."

He's right. Now she understands why her heart led her here. When you're hurting, when you're in pain, when you're wounded, you go where you can heal.

Elliot threads his hands through her hair, places a sweet kiss to her lips, then pulls her against his chest and she finally lets it all out. She sobs from some place deep within her where she's been burying everything. She weeps for losing the ability to mend fences with the last blood family she had, for promised coffees between old friends that never happened and for the time she feels is slipping away.

"You're gonna be okay baby," he soothes. "I promise."

Minutes go by before her body stops shaking with the force of the tears she's shedding. He simply holds her through it, whispering words of comfort until he feels her relax. When Elliot hears her breaths even out he lays her down then covers her with the throw from the back of the sofa.

An hour later she awakens to the delicious aroma of whatever her former partner is cooking in the kitchen. Olivia runs her fingers through her hair, retrieves her purse from the coat rack and quickly locates a bathroom.

No doubt about it, she looks like shit.

But feels better than she did before she got there. After years of being a husband and a father, Elliot knows how to take care of someone. He listens more than he talks, considers whether what he says will hurt or help. There's no judgement about her decisions and he's not hesitant about offering comfort, holding her.

He's changed. Maybe she should ask for_ his_ shrink's card. Dr. Lindstrom may no longer be an option.

Olivia laughs to herself at the thought. Shrunk on the same couch as Elliot.

She uses her fingers to run some toothpaste over her teeth, washes her face, brushes her hair and reapplies some mascara and colored lip gloss. Her reflection in the mirror shows a vast improvement over what she must've looked like when she arrived on his doorstep.

Olivia finds him making two place settings for dinner at the dining table. Having heard her approach, he looks up with a smile.

"You hungry?"

"Starving," she answers.

There weren't any thoughts of food after Tucker's funeral. She didn't even drive home. Noah called to facetime with her and let her know he was okay at his sleepover. Olivia remained stoic long enough to get off the phone and borrow the Ford Explorer from the motor pool.

She just meant to get some air, feel a breeze on her face during the drive home. Then she realized the inside of her colorful but empty walls was the last place she wanted to be.

"And whatever your cooking smells great."

"Crockpot beef stew with cornbread," he informs her. "One of my mom's recipes."

"Sounds delicious," Olivia says. "Would you happen to have anything I can change into?" She asks. "I've been in this all day and it's not exactly comfortable."

"I remember," he tells her. "Come with me."

She follows him through the house past what looks like a guest bedroom to the master. To Elliot's. His king-sized bed would never fit in her small place. But it looks comfortable. As he searches through his drawers her focus remains on his gray and burgundy duvet. Flashbacks of being curled up beside him talking throughout the night bombards her mind. She momentarily flushes remembering their _other_ activities.

"I think this'll work," he says, turning to offer a t-shirt and some sweatpants. "If not feel free to root around," he adds. "Ten minutes and I start without you woman."

He gets the smile he was hoping for before leaving her to her own devices.

Olivia quickly ditches the restrictive formal uniform for the comfort of Elliot's clothes scented with the lingering combination of his fabric softener and cologne. She hangs it in his closet then rummages for socks cozier than those she's worn with her boots. In a bottom drawer, she comes across a framed photograph of the two of them in the last year of their partnership.

His arm is thrown over her shoulders, they smile for the camera at some informal police function. A different time. A different life. Of all the people that have come and gone, Alex to Rafael, Don to both Dobbs men, Munch to Nick, she hasn't felt as profound a loss as she did when Elliot left.

Sometimes she still feels it and it dawns on her that she'll never stop missing him. "_But he's_ _right here_," her mind supplies. And how can she miss someone who's present? With all the loss she's experienced lately, how can she continue to ignore the pull towards him? Is she really going to wait until she gets a call telling her he's gone?

Forever?

He finds her sitting on his bed, distressed look on her face, clutching the frame.

"Liv?"

Immediately she goes to him abandoning the picture on the bed, engulfing him in a hug.

"I'm so sorry El," she whispers. "I'm so damn sorry."

He leans away, wiping at a single tear with one hand, while keeping his other arm around her back.

"For what?" He asks, confused.

"Calling you out of the blue because I have no one else," she explains. "Pushing you away…wasting time."

Olivia palms his face, closing the distance between them again.

"I don't wanna do that anymore," she says against his lips. "Life's too fucking short."

The kiss is slow and deep as she delves into his mouth to taste him while sliding both hands beneath the sweater at his back. She slips her tongue against his, alternates between suckling on his top and bottom lips before he leans away again.

"Liv," he begins. "You went to the funeral of someone you cared about today. You're grieving for him, for Simon, for your academy friend," he reminds her. "You're so vulnerable right now."

"You don't want me," she assumes.

Elliot lays both palms against the sides of her neck, kisses her again with fire and passion, leaving her lips bruised and her lungs hungering for oxygen.

"When we're ninety I'll still be chasing after you with my walker," he jests. "I'll always want you Olivia," he asserts after letting her breathe. "But not like this," he explains. "If you wanna talk about seeing one another more often than every three years, I can do that," he goes on, caressing her cheek. "But can we please eat first?"

Olivia smiles as he takes her hand, leading her to the dining table and the mouth-watering meal he's prepared for them. She comments on how good it is, then settles into conversation about the classic detective novel she saw on the coffee table.

After she's done poking fun at him, Elliot describes what turns out to be a good plot in a long series of books by a great author. They move onto their children, the trouble Noah gave her the last few years and he reassures her that she's doing everything right. He still works as a private investigator but admits it's not as fulfilling as SVU.

"But at least it doesn't give me nightmares or compound my stress," he tells her as they began to clear the table. "And my kids, thank God, aren't doing that so much lately either."

They move around each other in the kitchen like they've been married for years. Bernie never had modern appliances so Elliot washes while Olivia dries. He puts the leftovers in plasticware, while she wipes down the table. The two work as well tonight as they did the twelve years they were partnered.

By the time they're done, the storm has mellowed, no longer battering the windows with wind and rain.

"You can cook for me anytime," she tells them as they settle on the sofa again, each choosing a corner to rest their backs against. "That was amazing El, thank you."

"You're welcome," he says, pulling her feet into his lap and beginning a massage. "You deserve a home cooked meal after the day you've had."

"Hmm, how are you still single?" She asks, moaning with her eyes closed.

Elliot laughs while continuing to manipulate the flesh of her soles.

"Well let's see," he begins. "The last woman I dated said I wasn't fully present in the relationship," he answers. "The one before that found the same photograph you had earlier and assumed I was a cheater," he goes on. "The one before that said it felt like I was hoping to see someone else every time I looked at her and the one before that slept with me after the first date then kicked me out the next morning."

Olivia smirks that she's mentioned amongst his list of women.

"What a bitch," she quips with a smirk. "But you know I didn't kick you out. Neither of us thought we'd see each other again. Plus, I'm still learning to navigate my work-life balance," she excuses. "Noah's getting more independent every day, I give him every second of free time I have," she adds. "And the job is a bigger headache once you're in the supervisor's office."

"But it gets lonely," he surmises. "And you don't think it's fair to Noah for you to have a social life."

"You cook, give great massages, you've learned to communicate without yelling or smashing things and now you're psychic," Olivia says. "Again, I ask, how are you single?"

"Emotionally unavailable so says my shrink," he answers. "Where is your son tonight?"

"Sleepover til Sunday."

"So, he gets a social life and you don't, huh?"

She sits up, climbs onto his lap and wraps her arms around his neck.

"God knows I want one," Olivia asserts. "But I don't know how to captain SVU, raise Noah and make time to fall in love," she confesses. "And I'm so damn tired of saying I'm fine and trying to do all this shit on my own."

Elliot slides his hands up the back of the t-shirt he's loaned her, pulling her towards him until their lips meet again and again. When they run out of air, she leans her forehead against his.

"You don't have to Liv," he whispers. "I don't wanna waste anymore time on women who'll never be you."

It's Olivia kissing him this time, an instant response to his beautiful words. She's never been connected to anyone so viscerally. Their sincere attempts at relationships have failed. She can't keep stopping herself from seeking him out. And with her having given him a feeling of such finality the last she saw him, of course he wasn't about to be the one to call.

"Do we have to figure it out tonight?" She asks, burying her face in his neck. "I'm too spent El," she manages. "Can I stay?"

"Of course," Elliot answers. "It was my master plan all along to fill your belly with hearty food, give you a relaxing foot massage and lull you into being too worn out to drive."

Olivia pulls back, giving him a sleepy grin.

"You neaky bastard," she says, caressing his cheek.

He leans forward suddenly, causing a yelp as he stands with her legs around his waist.

"Time for bed Captain Benson."

Elliot carries her to his room as if she's a child, flipping light switches along the way. When he deposits her onto his mattress, she doesn't let go.

"I'll be right back Liv, promise."

She turns on her side towards the window, clouds of the storm now cleared to reveal an unobstructed view of a bright moon and shimmering stars. He returns having ditched his clothes for a set of black pajama pants. When he climbs in bed, she rolls to face him, neither former partner hesitating to reach for the other.

"I miss you," Olivia says. "And not just because I'm vulnerable and—"

"Horny?" He concludes, earning a playful pinch to his waist. "What? You've never heard of sexual bereavement?"

She laughs harder than she has in quite a while.

"You made that up."

"I did not," he contends. "People grieve in a lot of ways," he explains. "Some go with comfort food, others drown their sorrows in booze or drugs and those like yourself want a reaffirmation of life, so you turn to more _intimate _ways of mourning," he concludes, waggling his eyebrows.

After her laughter subsides, she kisses him more. She can't help it. Maybe there is something to what he's saying. Then again, she's been physically attracted to him for years. And he came to bed without a shirt. Olivia can't resist caressing the planes of his chest with her hands until he stops her.

"I miss you Liv," Elliot says, his tone serious as he threads a hand through her hair. "But I won't make love to you until I trust you're really okay."

She places a few tender kisses on his chest before pulling back.

"You do know that nobility of yours only makes you more desirable," she informs him. "But I get it," she concludes, yawning.

Olivia turns to face the window again, reaches behind herself and pulls his strong arm over her waist. He lifts her shirt, beginning to stroke the soft skin of her abdomen. She feels safe, protected, loved and incredibly sleepy.

"El?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't leave me okay?" She asks, her tone drowsy. "It would break my heart all over again."

Elliot knows she's too exhausted to censor her words.

"Don't worry Liv," he promises. "I'll be right here."

Surrounded by his scent, wrapped in his arms and feeling his fingers against her skin she falls asleep.

Olivia takes the elevator up to the third-floor midtown apartment. Only ten minutes from her own. He's invited her over to see his new place, now Elliot's main residence while he's in the city. His old place in Brooklyn was out once his youngest moved on to junior high. The New Jersey cottage on the beach is a two-and-a-half-hour commute that's inconvenient when he has a client. And, when she needs to get back to Noah in a timely fashion.

Too bad though, she could use another whiskey by the fire.

"Hey," he says, opening the door. "Come on in."

Elliot takes her coat and hangs it in the foyer closet. The second he re-enters the living room, she envelopes him in a hug.

"Bad day?" He asks.

"No," she answers, but tightens the embrace. "I just don't wanna waste any more time overthinking," she continues. "And I missed you."

"I missed you too," he says, leaning away and threading has fingers through her hair. "Halfway expected you be doing something with the squad or Noah and cancelling on me."

"Noah's at dance practice," Olivia informs him, resting her purse and work satchel on a nearby table. "And I told the squad I had an appointment."

"Oh, I'm an appointment now?" He asks, releasing her to enter the kitchen.

"I don't know if you recall, but detectives are incredibly nosy people," she says, with a smirk, sitting on his steel gray sofa. "This is comfortable."

"Glad you like it," he says, opening the fridge. "I got beer, wine, cherry lemonade and iced tea."

"Lemonade sounds good."

He pours a glass and walks it out to her, noticing how she's taking in her surroundings.

"You want a tour of the place?"

"Sure," she answers, after taking a sip of her drink. "That's pretty good."

"Stop acting surprised that I can do basic adulting," he comments, holding his hand out to her. "I wasn't raised by wolves you know," he adds, causing her to smirk.

He helps her up and Olivia follows.

"Course not."

The place isn't fancy but it's modern, nice. There's a second bedroom for Eli decorated with a NY Yankees theme. He takes the couch when Liz or Kathleen chooses to stay. The guest bathroom is expectedly small but clean and uncluttered. So far, she's reminded of the apartment she spent nearly the entirety of their partnership in, the one destroyed more than five years ago when a certain psychopath showed up. But it's different enough not to reopen those wounds.

Elliot's bedroom is a nice surprise.

There's another king-sized bed she wishes would fit in her own bedroom, a couple of small shelves attached to the wall holding knickknacks and a few books. The balcony is what gets Olivia's attention. She moves towards it, then slides open the door. It has two chairs with a small table between them.

"Nice view."

"It's just 37th street," he says, stepping behind her.

"Still…people watching, listening to the traffic, the horns, the sound of the tires on the pavement when it rains," she comments. "It's a New York city lullaby," she nearly whispers.

"It is," he agrees, standing beside her at the railing. "I sleep almost as good listening to that as I do the waves at the beach."

"I bet."

"You seem kinda far away Liv," he says, reaching for her hand. "I know it's only been a couple of weeks…but how are you?"

"I hadn't seen Tucker in a while, but I still cared," she tells him. "The same with Simon even though—"

"He was still your brother," he interrupts. "Like you said, families can be messy," he reminds her. "It's okay to mourn, even if your relationship wasn't what you hoped it could've been."

"Thank you," Olivia says, releasing his hand to lean fully on the railing. "But I think losing them back to back is what had me…taking inventory."

Elliot watches as she breathes deeply, looks out over the city she's been serving and protecting for twenty plus years.

"People who do that are usually thinking about making a big change in their lives," he comments. "Starting something new or maybe ending something that's taking too much from them."

Olivia remains silent but her grip tightens then loosens on the metal bar.

"Thinking of retiring?"

"I just made captain," she points out. "Took a long time to get here and I'm not just gonna quit because I hit a rough patch," she adds, turning to face him. "There's always gonna be rough patches Elliot. I'm just…tired."

He steps closer, placing his hands outside of hers, caging her in.

"So, take a vacation," he suggests. "You and Noah go find some sunshine somewhere maybe—"

She cuts him off with her lips on his. Initially it's just a simple peck but Elliot pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. Olivia palms his face, taking control and tasting him repeatedly before they need to stop and breathe.

"I meant that I've missed having a partner," she clarifies. "I have the support of my squad…Fin's great but—"

This time it's Elliot who cut's her off. He slides his tongue against hers, suckles on her bottom lip then pulls away.

"I get it," he tells her. "Having someone to talk to or not talk to, destress with, bounce ideas off of or just gets what you go through without explanation," he adds. "Goes a long way in any high stress job, especially yours."

It's that kind of understanding that lead her to him two weeks ago. The home cooked meal once she got there didn't hurt. Neither did being held while she slept nor waking up in his arms surrounded by his scent.

"And I already told you that I'm here Liv," he reminds her. "For whatever you need," he says. "Especially the fun stuff," he adds, waggling his eyebrows.

Elliot gets the laugh he was hoping for and kisses her again.

"And for the record you are the big change I've madein my life," she advises him. "You don't get over the death or deaths in this case, of the people you care about," she continues. "You just…learn to move on."

"That's true," he agrees, taking her hand and returning to the warmth of his apartment, stopping at the foot of his bed. "You sort of carry them around with you," he adds, stepping away to slide the balcony door and curtains closed. "Seems like you're doing better."

When he takes her hand to go back to the living room, Olivia doesn't move. Elliot turns to face her, threads his fingers through her hair.

"You okay?"

"I'm good," she answers, reaching for his palm as he pulls it back, tenderly kissing the center. "I need something."

Without further explanation she leans in to place a warm open mouth on his neck. He closes his eyes at the sensation.

"Hungry?" He asks, as she loosens his tie.

"Very," she rasps, tossing it on his dresser.

"I don't wanna join the list of men you've left Olivia," Elliot tells her as she unbuttons his shirt. "Not six months or six years from now," he asserts. "So, if you're gonna—

The kiss that silences him is instantly deep and passionate. Olivia doesn't want to do any leaving this time around. She pushes him against the nearest wall, finishes removing the button down with his help while she devours his mouth.

Her heart pumps violently in her chest, forcing the heat to course through her veins. Elliot steps out of his shoes as she throws her own blouse over her head. By the time his belt is unbuckled, and the slacks fall from his waist, Olivia is down to nothing but her bra and panties.

"Someone's in a hurry," he says, wrapping his arms around her.

"Dance class won't last forever so we don't have a lot of time," she mumbles against his chest, peppering his skin with her kisses. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, meeting his eyes and then, "Unless of course, you're still refusing to—"

Olivia yelps as he unexpectedly picks her up and drops her on the bed. He climbs up her body to devour her mouth again. Elliot moves down her neck and towards her left breast as he lowers the cup of her teal satin and black laced bra. He remembered how responsive she was the last time he treated her nipples to his mouth and this time is no different.

"Shit," Olivia manages between moans. "I love it when you do that."

Elliot simply smirks as he circles her areola with the moisture of his tongue before fully taking the peach hued bud into his mouth to suckle. His hand journeys down to caress her abdomen before snaking beneath her matching panties.

But the hunger for him has been building for weeks. Despite the grief she's been reliving their night together to the point of distraction since she left the beach house. Olivia wants his mouth, his fingers, his…everything. It would be embarrassing if she didn't know he was in the same boat.

He's been fighting a burgeoning erection since he deepened her simple kiss on the balcony just a few minutes ago. Olivia grabs his wrist, moving his hand to her other breast while she cups and rubs him feeling him further harden.

Unexpectedly she puts her calves behind his thighs and flips them, wasting no time sliding the gray boxer briefs down his toned legs. She joins their mouths again, exploring the depths with her tongue. Olivia drags eager lips down his chest and over his stomach before eying him then grasping his length in one hand and rubbing his nipple with the other.

"I thought you said we didn't have much time," he manages, threading a hand through her hair.

"Who are you kidding?" She asks, circling her tongue over his head just once, causing him to bite his bottom lip. "Neither one of us is gonna last."

Olivia takes him into the warmth of her mouth. Simultaneously she strokes and throats him until he's solid. Granite. Perfection. Too concerned with having him inside her as many times as they could manage before morning, she hadn't bothered pleasuring him this way when they thought they were saying goodbye.

When she knows Elliot can't handle any more of her mouth, she slips her panties down her legs, kicking them to the side. Then she takes him in her hand again, positions him at her entrance and works her way over him.

The second she does, he flips them.

"I missed that the first time around," he breathes on her lips before kissing her, delving into her mouth, tasting himself on her tongue.

"It won't be the last," she promises after being allowed oxygen. "Now, where were we?"

A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he pulls Olivia's left thigh higher on his hip. He rolls against her once, hinges back then plunges in again, causing her to moan loudly. The grin turns into a full smirk once he realizes he found her spot with the first stroke and that she has too.

"You cocky motherf—"

Olivia screams this time and she knows his neighbors are going to hate her. She managed to keep quiet for Noah the last time they were together, but her body has instantly recognized that he's not here to wake up.

Elliot slides his hands beneath her shoulders, anchoring himself as he pistons his hips over and over again. He tries to silence her moans and screams with frequent passionate kisses but in the end, he simply hopes the older couple next door is out on a Wednesday evening.

She was right, he isn't going to last but he'll be damn if he finishes first. He reaches between them, begins fervently stroking that sensitized bundle of nerves until Olivia's back arches off the bed. The relentless spasms of her walls trigger his own forceful climax. But years of being quiet for the sake of the kids has made his orgasm a hushed though powerful experience.

Olivia runs her fingers up and down his Jesus tattoo as she feels him trying to slow his breaths against her shoulder. Her bra is half off, hair mussed and there's a fine sheen of sweat over her entire body. If she stood in front of a mirror right now she'd probably see that she looks the definition of 'rode hard and put away wet'.

And because of how amazing she feels, she could care less. When Elliot rolls off her, she turns to lay on his chest as he's pulling her against his body, caressing the skin of her spine.

"I really needed that," Olivia admits.

"Sexual bereavement," he says, causing her stomach to shake against his in laughter. "And no, I did not make that up."

"Of course you didn't," she comments. "Besides…I'm starting to believe there's something to it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she tells him, playing with the hairs on his chest. "And I guess you've decided I'm okay enough for sex."

"I decided…that I shouldn't try to decide for you at all," Elliot admits. "But it couldn't be the day of Tucker's funeral Liv," he adds. "You were like an exposed nerve and—"

"You were right," Olivia interrupts. "I just…wanted to forget for a little while," she continues. "But I shouldn't have tried to use you like that especially out of the blue without a word after three years."

"I don't blame you for not contacting me," he says. "We spent twelve years building trust with one another and I blew that up with how I left," he admits. "As good as it was I didn't expect the night we had to fix that."

"Well it definitely didn't hurt it," she quips, resulting in another laugh between them. "And for the record…I don't want to leave you either," Olivia tells him, getting up to gather her clothes after wrapping up in a sheet. "I don't just mean today but…not in six months or six years," she adds, stopping to meet his eyes. "I know it won't be easy. We have some issues to get through," she admits. "But I wanna work on this with you."

Elliot gives her a genuine smile. He looks her over as if she's standing before him naked.

"You'd better get in the shower before I make you late."

After she's clean, shampooed and blow dried, Olivia redresses and joins him. He's standing with the refrigerator door open, downing a bottle of Fiji in a pair of gray jogging pants slung low on his hips and nothing else. From the V of his strong back, down to the curve of his ass to the muscles of the arm he's drinking with, he's so overtly masculine. She wants him again.

But mama duty calls.

"Hey," she says, sitting on the couch to put on her boots. "What are you doing Saturday afternoon?"

"Nothing special."

The iced lemonade Olivia left on his coffee table has long since diluted in the warmth of his apartment while they were otherwise engaged. So, she joins him in the kitchen where he hands off the rest of his bottled water.

"Would you be interested in having lunch with me and Noah?" She asks, dropping the empty bottle in the recycle bin. "Nothing special just probably getting a slice or two at Motorino's," she explains. "His favorite vegetable is pepperoni."

"I get to meet Noah?" Elliot asks, failing to contain his glee.

"Unless you don't plan on—"

He cuts her off with his lips, backing her up against the counter, kissing her breathless until she feels him against her thigh. The smell of the sex they had still coats his skin and he obviously didn't bother putting on underwear.

"I plan on sticking around," he asserts. "Even when you try to tell me bullshit like 'it's complicated' or 'we're moving in two different directions' or 'we don't want the same things anymore'," he concludes, making her smile.

"Careful Elliot. I was there when you dodged Kathy's calls and had me covering before you two reconciled," she reminds him. "I'm not the only one with the M.O. of running when shit gets…rough."

He gives her space but doesn't let go.

"You have a point," he admits. "Maintaining a relationship for any meaningful length of time is a challenge," he continues. "But whether it was fate, kismet or the universe conspiring _for_ us instead of against us all the damn time," he adds, making her raise an eyebrow. "I choose to believe that none of what we had with other people worked out so that you and I could be standing here right now…together."

Olivia smiles before she captures his lips. It's more than a challenge not to encourage a repeat performance of what happened in her kitchen three years ago.

"When did you get so damn sentimental?"

"About a millisecond after the day I found out you survived Lewis," he answers. "That was my 'life's too fucking short' moment," he clarifies, caressing the skin of her neck. "So yeah, I'd love to have pizza and meet Noah on Saturday."

"Great," she says, giving him one last kiss. "See you then."

He walks her to the door, pulling her into another hug before she can get it open.

"Me and you Liv," he rasps against her ear. "It doesn't end. Partners for life, right?"

She pulls back, palming his face.

"For better or worse," Olivia responds, her smile suddenly shy. "Saturday."

"Saturday."

She leaves with the optimism of all new relationships. The part where they can't keep their hands off each other will wax and wane. They'll argue because they know one another too damn well. Elliot will undoubtedly get on her nerves and she on his. Olivia has never been more evenly matched and innately connected to anyone in her life. She actually sees longevity with him.

It's not about her job stress. It's not about Noah needing another male role model for longer than a year. It's not about her recent losses in Simon and Tucker. It's not even about the phenomenal sex.

It's about knowing Elliot Stabler is her other half.

Some go through life never having found theirs. And though Olivia hasn't felt it lately, she knows just how fortunate she is. It took her too long to see it. She's always been in denial about her feelings for him. But she finally got there. She'll not waste another second looking for something that was serendipitously handed to her over twenty years ago.

This is it.

**The End…no, seriously. I mean it this time, lol. **


End file.
